


proper in-scent-tive

by brighteningstar



Series: bonding/bonded [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, a/b/o fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13532010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brighteningstar/pseuds/brighteningstar
Summary: Alvarez is the one who points it out in the end. She joins him at his table in the dining hall, wrinkles her nose, and says, “Are you just letting Jeremy rub himself all over you now?”The immediate mental image is striking. Jean sputters.





	proper in-scent-tive

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics so please be warned if that isn't your thing!

Jean Moreau arrives in LAX on a warm autumn day and finds Jeremy Knox waiting for him.

It’s not that he doesn’t know anything about Jeremy – it’s hard not to, with the way their worlds intersect. Jean’s job is to know about the offensive players he’ll face from the other side of the court, and he is very good at his job.

Jeremy is holding a sign with Jean’s name on it, as though Jean somehow wouldn’t recognise the only omega captain in Exy, NCAA and otherwise. He’s nearly a foot shorter than Jean and he grins when he meets Jean’s eyes.

“Hi!” he says as soon as Jean is in earshot. His voice draws everyone else’s attention too, though he doesn’t seem to notice. “Good flight?”

“It was fine,” Jean replies. It’s not a lie. He hadn’t had a panic attack, so technically he could classify it as ‘good’ by comparison.

“Awesome!” Jeremy chirps. “Come on, let’s get you to the dorms so you can settle in.”

It’s almost possible to forget that the last time they met face-to-face, Jean had still been bed-bound. There’s no trace of that knowledge hanging between them. It’s strange, especially after months of being close to the Foxes who wear their scars bared like badges of honour. Jean has no interest in hiding even if he could, but he recognises there’s a difference between his indifference and Fox pride-and-anger and Jeremy’s…disinterest? Or is he just a good actor?

Jean shoves the thought aside as he climbs into the passenger seat of Jeremy’s car. It’s a tiny hatchback, and he has to slide the seat right back so he isn’t sitting with his knees at his ears.

Jeremy makes a muffled sound which Jean only realises in retrospect is a stifled laugh. “I forgot how tall you were. Sorry about my clown car.”

“It’s fine,” Jean tells him, because it is, and because there’s something in Jeremy’s humour that makes it completely inoffensive.

Jeremy gives him a running tour of what they can see as he drives them towards campus. He drives casually, one hand gesturing and the other relaxed on the wheel, comfortably just over the speed limit. It should feel dangerous, but somehow doesn’t. That seems to be something of a character trait of Jeremy Knox.

His gesturing hand gets wilder as they reach the campus itself. It sounds practiced, more so than what he was saying about LA itself, like he’s had to do the same plenty of times.

“And here we are,” he says at last, pulling in to park. “Home sweet home.”

The USC dorm Jean will be living in looks nothing at all like the Nest. It’s a blessing.

“Not quite Castle Evermore,” Jeremy muses, echoes Jean’s thoughts. “I like it better, I think.”

Jean spends a protracted moment trying to imagine Jeremy stepping foot in the Black dorms, remembers Jeremy is an omega, and then stops himself in his own tracks.

“These are yours,” Jeremy says, tossing something to Jean. He snatches it from the air on instinct, fingers closing around metal and plastic. There’s a key and a plastic fob. “Welcome to USC.”

Jeremy keys them through the gate of the building with his own keys. Inside the elevator he hits the button for the fifth floor, resting an elbow on the handrail. He seems unbothered by Jean’s quiet or his attention as Jean focuses on him and ignores the fact of the elevator itself.

It’s pretty easy. There are unsuppressed omegas, and there are unsuppressed omegas in small metal boxes. If Jeremy notices Jean staring he ignores it. He’s probably used to it.

The doors slide open, letting in a rush of lemon pledge and faint old-gym-bag. Jean’s focus breaks.

“The team is all on the same three floors, but we all have our own rooms,” Jeremy explains as he leads the way down the hall. “That means you won’t have to worry about rooming with another alpha.”

Jean freezes. “What?”

“I mean, not to imply that that would be a problem for you,” Jeremy continues, before glancing over his shoulder and realising Jean isn’t right behind him anymore. He stops and turns, frowning gently. “Jean?”

“You said ‘another’.”

“I’m…sorry?” He genuinely doesn’t seem to get it.

“How did you know?” Jean demands.

Jeremy’s expression clears. He taps the side of his nose. “Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t…I’m on…” Jean attempts before remembering himself. He’s _never had this problem before._ Even the Foxes' nurse had never realised he isn’t the beta he seems like.

Jeremy’s smile slips off, his eyes narrowing. “Are you on blockers?”

Jean doesn’t say anything, which is as good as agreement. Suppressants are widely used by omegas and alphas alike to help with the annoying symptoms of heat or rut. Blockers are a harsher cousin of the same kind of drug, designed to stamp out cycling entirely and only prescribed in special cases, and never for a long period of time. Jean should read as a beta, height and size aside.

“Why?” Jeremy asks, and then pauses. “You don’t need to tell me that. Sorry. However, I am going to make sure you see a doctor and cleared. Blockers can be bad for your health.”

Jean should bristle at this picture-perfect omega telling him something like that, but that seems like a waste of energy. He shrugs instead. “Ravens are betas.”

“Well, clearly not all of them,” Jeremy replies flippantly, before he realises what Jean means.

“Clearly not,” Jean echoes, smiling his twisted little grimace of a thing.

Jeremy stares at him. Then he says, “You don’t need to tell me anything. But…if you want to, you can.”

“Curious?”

“Concerned, maybe.” There’s nothing in his expression to suggest he’s lying. It’s not believable anyway.

“Don’t waste your time,” Jean tells him.

 

* * *

 

 

The doctor takes one look at the bottle of pills, one look at Jean, and says, “How long have you been on these drugs?”

Jean is more than aware that, for all of his height and his hard-earned muscle, there’s something about him that looks half-grown. He says, “A long time.”

“After your first rut?” the doctor asks. He sounds more hopeful than like he actually believes the answer will be ‘yes’.

“Before it,” Jean replies. Tetsuji had taken one look at his lanky barely-teenaged body when he arrived in the Nest and put him straight onto the blockers. It’s pure luck that he isn’t stunted. It’s only the last few months that he’s even thought to be concerned about his internal organs.

He remembers Riko reciting his beliefs about how betas were better, undistracted and less prone to ‘temper’, as though betas were another species entirely, and as though he wasn’t the worst example of being temperamental of anyone Jean has ever met.

The doctor looks up from his pad. He’s mid-fifties, a beta, and looks irritatingly sad. “I can tell by your expression that you’re aware of why that might have been a bad idea.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Jean says, which doesn’t help the expression.

“I’m going to schedule you for a whole lot of tests to check on your liver, kidneys and heart. Then we’re going to make a plan to wean you off of this medication and onto something more suitable.”

“I can go on suppressants?”

“In the long term,” the doctor replies, “Once you’ve had at least one unsuppressed cycle. Of course, that depends on the results of your tests. And even when you aren’t taking anything, it could take some time for your body to cycle normally. I’d like to see you at least once a month to check on your progress.”

He takes several vials of Jean’s blood, and then makes an appointment for him in a week’s time and lets him go after telling him to keep taking the pills as normal. Jean nods dutifully, and then stops halfway down the hall, walks back, and throws the pill bottle in the trash before he leaves the medical centre.

 

* * *

 

 

Thankfully at his next appointment the doctor gives him an all-clear to come off the medication. Asking for a prescription at that point would have been awkward.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy is the only omega amongst the Trojans, but there is another alpha alongside Jean.

Alvarez is five-ten and all muscle, and when she meets Jean she immediately flashes him her throat. Jean blinks at her – he hasn’t ever been this hormonal in his life after two weeks off of the blockers, and some part of his brain just went from relaxed to klaxons-and-flashing-lights to relaxed again in the space of ten seconds.

“Work-around,” she explains with a smile. “Jeremy said you grew up around betas. The Trojans are anti-territorial-pissing-matches, if you were wondering.”

The short beta next to her, who Jean recognises as Laila Dermott, punches her in the upper arm, making her squeak. “Ow!”

“Ignore her,” Dermott suggests, smiling. It’s not a warm expression, but it’s trying to be. “The rest of us do. I’m Laila. Goalie, vice-cap.”

She offers a hand to Jean that he shakes. It’s hard not to notice the smell of alpha all over her, but Jean keeps his expression steady. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she replies, and then elbows Alvarez. “That’s the sound of good manners, Sara.”

“It’s Alvarez. Thanks for setting such a good example,” Alvarez replies good-naturedly as she shakes Jean’s hand herself.

“Hey!” that’s Jeremy, bustling up and wrapping an arm around each of the women. “You met our newbie?”

The two of them look between Jean and Jeremy, but it’s Laila who says, eyebrow raised, “Newbie?”

“If the shoe fits,” Jeremy says, still grinning. “He might be the best backliner in the game, but he’s still new here.”

Jean snorts softly. Laila and Alvarez blink at him, but it’s Alvarez who says, “At least we know this one can play.”

“All my rookies can play,” Jeremy retorts, bumping her with his hip.

“Yes, _Mother_ ,” is Alvarez’s response. It’s a lot of disrespect from an alpha to an unbonded omega, but Jeremy seems unbothered by it. Jean wonders if it’s just from this alpha in particular, or if Jeremy reacts the same to all of them.

He finds that out on the first game of the season, when an alpha striker from the opposition says something to Jeremy as they pass by one another during reset. The wordless snarl Jeremy lets out isn’t aimed at Jean even slightly, but his heart stops in his chest before jumpstarting so hard he nearly drops his racquet.

Needless to say, the striker doesn’t speak to Jeremy again before he’s subbed off. Also, they win.

 

* * *

 

The Trojans are different from what Jean expected. They aren’t the well-oiled machine that the Ravens are – or were, anyway – but there’s a spirit there, uncrushed and perhaps even encouraged, that bands the players together into a cohesive team.

Jean likes it.

He’s not quite so keen on his monthly doctor’s appointments, or his regular blood tests, or the fact he isn’t allowed to go on suppressants until he’s had one normal cycle, perhaps more. On the other hand, he’s gained muscle better than he ever has during the early season, though his fat gain and retention is still shit. Twenty-one is extremely late for growth, but he gains an extra half-inch upwards and across his shoulders in two months.

He still feels like Jean Moreau despite that. Half-alpha, half-beta, a mishmash of instincts that he can’t quite get his head around. He’s not sure that will ever change.

It’s not that Jean believes what Riko used to always say about omegas and alphas. It’s just that he kind of does, in the back of his mind. Even with a new knowledge of himself – and yes, sex education at twenty-one is just as embarrassing as Jean could have imagined – thanks to the doctors, he’s had his brain filled with damaging misinformation for years. He can’t just shake that off.

It’s really not helped by the fact that he’s going through a second puberty, less voice-breaking and more temptation to break stuff. He _wouldn’t_ , but the temptation is still there at the back of his mind.

The blockers suddenly don’t seem so bad, organ failure aside.

“It passes,” Alvarez says to him, clapping him on the back. Renee tells him the same over the phone, her voice less conciliatory and more honest. Especially the part where she adds, “Eventually.”

She also says, “Stay away from omegas,” but that’s easier said than done. Jean rooms next to Jeremy, and practices with him twice a day, and Jeremy’s determination to make sure he settles in means that they eat together most of the time too. Though Jean doesn’t honestly put that much effort into evading him, either.

He doesn’t want Jeremy to think he doesn’t like him, because he likes him fine. That’s probably more of an issue than hating him would be, especially when it’s combined with his constant awareness of Jeremy whenever they’re in the same room. Or building.

It’s partly instinct for him, the awareness and the deference and the way he notices Jeremy first when he walks into a room. But that’s not all it is. Jean is an adult, and he can admit that to himself if no one else.

The niggle is that it’s only instinct on Jeremy’s part, a basic reaction of an omega around an unsuppressed and unbonded alpha. Jean pushes aside why that might be an issue, but he can’t ignore the doubt entirely.

It dogs him through the beginning of their acquaintance and into the part where he’s comfortable calling them friends. It does get more difficult to consider it ‘just instinct’ when they’re planning to go off of campus together, or studying in the library, or sharing a seat on the bus to a game.

Alvarez is the one who points it out in the end. She joins him at his table in the dining hall, wrinkles her nose, and says, “Are you just letting Jeremy rub himself all over you now?”

The immediate mental image is striking. Jean sputters.

“I like you both, but I really don’t need to smell that,” she continues.

“What?” Jean manages through the water he just breathed in, voice cracking.

“You reek of pre-bonding.” She makes another face. “Like, it’s beautiful, congrats or whatever, but seriously. Take a goddamn shower.”

Jean showers twice a day, but also _that isn’t the issue here._ “We aren’t _pre-bonded.”_

Alvarez gives him a deeply sceptical look, then lunges across the table into his personal space. It’s only exposure to her that means he doesn’t fall backwards off of his chair trying to get away from her. She breathes in, her nose practically against his chest, and then leans back with a grin.

“This nose doesn’t lie,” she crows, though not quite loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not surprised _at all.”_

“Alvarez,” Jean hisses. “We’re _not_.”

“Yeah, you two just hang out together constantly, and go places with just the two of you, and he touches you all the time,” Alvarez says, and then takes in his expression. “Oh my god, you’re kidding me. You didn’t notice?”

“We’re not together, and we’re definitely not bonding,” Jean corrects her.

“You guys are pretty much dating, and you might not have noticed but your hormones definitely have,” she replies, sitting back in her seat. “Go talk to him, you oblivious fuck.”

“You’re a bitch,” he tells her, because he doesn’t really have any other response.

She raises her bottle of water to him in a toast, smirking. “You’re not wrong.”

 

* * *

 

He finds Jeremy in the common room on their floor, sprawled across the couch with headphones on. His distraction gives Jean a moment to watch him and inhale.

And damn her if Alvarez isn’t right. When Jean actually pays attention he can smell exactly how his scent has started to mingle with Jeremy’s, immensely satisfying. And it’s not even Jean’s fault.

“Have you been scenting me?” he demands, forgetting that Jeremy has no idea he’s there. Jeremy jerks and rips his headphones off, blinking at Jean.

“Jean!” he says, squawking with surprise. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you, jeez, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Shouldn’t you have been able to tell I was here?” Jean asks, tapping his own nose in a mirror of Jeremy months ago.

Jeremy stares at him for a moment, and then his ears turn pink. “I was, uh, distracted?”

“You’ve been scenting me,” Jean says again, this time a statement of fact. There’s no way an omega should be so acclimatised to an alpha otherwise. And Jean might not have realised, but Jeremy –

“I didn’t know!” Jeremy yelps, and then, “At first.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “How long?”

“I realised a couple of weeks ago,” Jeremy answers, wincing over the words. “Before that, I don’t know.”

Jean watches his reddening face, the way he’s stiff-shouldered and squirming in place like a little kid in trouble. Jeremy is so expressive in everything, like he has no idea how to lock everything down.

“I’m sorry,” he says before Jean gets a chance to say anything, hopelessly earnest. “I genuinely didn’t realise. I just…”

“You just?”

“Ijustlikedit,” he rushes out. “I’ll stop. I’m sorry, Jean, really-”

“It’s fine,” Jean interrupts calmly. More calmly than he feels. “It’s instinct. I’ve been having a crash course in that lately.”

“No it isn’t,” Jeremy rushes out, “I mean, yeah it is, but it’s not _just_ instinct. It’s…I like you. You know that, right?”

“How would I know that? I didn’t even realise anything until Alvarez pointed this out,” Jean replies, gesturing to his entire body with one hand. It’s not until after he’s said it that he realises both how stupid and how dismissive that sounds.

Jeremy looks at him for a long moment, and then says, “I’m going to have to kill her.”

“You can’t, you need her on your backline,” Jean replies instantly.

“I should have told you myself anyway,” Jeremy says, then takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I was going to. I had this kind of all planned out. Figures it wouldn’t work out.”

“To tell me what? That you like me, or that we’re pre-bonding?”

“We’re not pre-bonding! That takes intent from both of us and you know it…you do know that, right?”

This is…too much talking. That’s Jeremy’s area of expertise, not Jean’s, and seeing as Jeremy seems like he’s not at all in control of this, it’s probably time Jean took over.

“I like you too,” Jean says, before Jeremy can keep talking.

Jeremy pauses in whatever he was about to say, instead letting out, “Oh.”

“I suppose ‘intent’ is a looser definition than Doctor Bentall would have had me believe,” Jean muses out loud.

“Can I scent you?” Jeremy blurts. Jean meets his gaze head-on and blinks at the mixture of terrible embarrassment and mind-bending intensity written all over Jeremy’s face. He looks like he wants to take the question back straight away, but he doesn’t.

“Okay,” Jean says rather than thinking about it too hard, because, surprise aside, there’s not much negative about having an attractive omega up close and personal with him.

Jeremy lets out his breath again, this time relieved, and gestures to the couch next to himself. A second later he springs up and says, “Actually…my room?”

Jean nods and follows him down the hall, not close enough to press. That’s apparently not close enough for Jeremy, who, as soon as they’re inside his bedroom, spins on Jean and presses him against his closed door.

When asked previously, Jean would have considered ‘scenting’ to be what Jeremy has already done – a hand on his shoulder, or at the back of his neck, or on his hip. He isn’t expecting Jeremy to press them cheek-to-cheek, holding him close like they’re hugging except for the incredible intimacy. He also wouldn’t have expected to like that, but, well.

Jeremy leans back, still flushed but now more relaxed, with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Intent,” he says.

“Yeah,” Jean agrees, and then kisses him.

Jeremy squeaks into his mouth with surprise, but throws himself into it before Jean can jerk away. He’s as enthusiastic in it as he is with everything else, perhaps more so. Jean isn’t exactly inexperienced with this, but it’s the first time he’s kissed an omega and the first time he’s kissed anyone this eager, and it’s exhilarating.

When they pull apart, Jeremy rests his forehead on Jean’s chest and says, “We should do that again. Some more.”

Jean huffs quietly, amused. “Maybe later.”


End file.
